Page 31 of Merry Mayhem
CHAPTER 8
JOSH
They told me that Nora,the director of Parks and Rec who created Merry Mayhem, doesn’t do things small.
But I wasn’t ready.
We walk downtown from Bruce and Harley’s place. We take it slow so that Harley can keep up with his cane—which is shaped like an upside-down hockey stick—in one hand and his other arm linked with Bruce’s. But there isn’t a moment of silence as we walk. The family talks and teases nonstop. They make me miss my family, and I have the sudden urge to call my family and introduce them to the Delaunes and Chaberts. They’d all get along famously.
Thea sends Ruth ahead to clear the sidewalk of any sticks, stones, or other debris, and I find out that Thea is Harley’s PT. I also find out that Harley isn’t as compliant as he should be. But their banter about it is good-natured and full of exasperated affection from both of them.
As we near the center of town, I can hear Christmas music, laughter, and conversation. I can also smell what I can only describe as “carnival food”. It’s definitely popcorn and kettle corn, but there is the mingled scent of cinnamon—churros, perhaps?—and other fried foods.
We step onto Main Street near an enormous hot chocolate stand.
I meanenormous. Not only are there five people pouring and handing over paper cups of classic chocolatey hot cocoa, but there is also a line for white hot chocolate and spicy hot chocolate made with chili powder. There’s also a line where people can have Irish Cream, Kahlua, peppermint schnapps, or butterscotch schnapps added to their cup.
Next to the serving lines is an impressive display of toppings from good old marshmallows and whipped cream to peppermint sticks and sprinkles to cherry syrup.
Finally, at the end, is a plethora of treats to go along with the drinks. Cookies of all kinds, Rice Krispies treats, cupcakes, and more fill the multi-tiered display trays.
And it’s all free.
“Wow,” is all I can say.
Thea smiles up at me. “Yeah. And this isn’t even officially mayhem.”
I laugh.
People linger about the tables, sipping and munching, chatting, laughing, clearly in a merry mood.
The rest of the street is just as festive.
There is a huge Christmas tree at one end of the street, and at the other end, near the Welcome to Rebel sign, is a ten-foot stone statue that is also decorated for the holidays with a Santa hat on its head and lights draped around its neck.
But the statue is not the founder of Rebel, or a beloved mayor, or a famous person from Rebel.
It’s an otter.
Yes, an otter. As in the animal.
Between the otter statue and the tree, Main Street is lined on both sides, in front of the storefronts for all the businesses, by booths that are just being set up and decorated, but manyare offering samples of what they will be selling over the next couple of days. Some are food booths offering a variety of items, from breads and pies to candies and jellies. Others feature handcrafted goods that make great last-minute Christmas gifts, such as soaps and lotions, wood carvings, or knitted items. Other booths offer services like massages, house cleaning, and landscaping.
“Things will be in full swing tomorrow, but tonight is a chance to window shop and make a list for what people want to come back for over the weekend,” Bruce tells me. “Some of these booths have been here every year, and others are brand new this year.” He points at a booth selling jams and honey. “That guy drives four hours to be here.”
“Wow. This is impressive,” I say.
“It’s a lot of fun,” he agrees. “Nora is very good at her job.” He beams with pride.
“Clearly.”
As we stand in line for hot chocolate, people greet Harley, Bruce, Thea, and Ruth with waves and smiles.
Ruth ends up enfolded into a group of girls and promises her mom she’ll be home right after the kick-off event ends.
A man approaches Thea and shows her how well his knee is bending. She praises him and then reminds him that she expects him in the clinic the day after Christmas, despite his wonderful range of motion.
A woman approaches and asks a question about her shoulder.
